


You kneel to condition all the feelings that you feel

by Farasha



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Blow Jobs, Crying, Dom Training, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Facials, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, M/M, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Praise Kink, Punishment, Sensory Deprivation, Spanking, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 04:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13826865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farasha/pseuds/Farasha
Summary: The Falconers are used to seeing Kent around. He's Jack's sub, even if both thesuband thebelonging to Jackpart are a secret. Guy never really thought anything of it beyond idle speculation, but when some chirping sends Kent spiraling into subspace, Guy starts to think that maybe these two need a hand with their dynamic.





	You kneel to condition all the feelings that you feel

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to offer both blessings and curses to the enabling nonnies that got me to write this. I hate (love) you all.
> 
> How this hockey-adjacent fandom doesn't have more kneeling fic and D/s fic I just don't know.

Las Vegas was a hell of a town to hold an awards ceremony, Guy had to admit. Having to stuff himself into an uncomfortable suit and sit for a few hours while other people got trophies wasn't his favorite activity in the entire world, but champagne in the Executive Suite at the Cromwell couldn't be beat. Snowy, up for the Vezina this year, had suffered some kind of room fuck-up that he of course turned to his advantage, because Snowy was a beautiful fucker with the best you-have-fucked-up-and-will-fix-it attitude on the whole team.

It was a Falconers party, celebrating Jack's Calder (since the press wouldn't, all still bitching about Jack being too old to be a rookie) and consoling Snowy on missing out on the Vezina, but it had long since stopped being weird to see Kent Parson bumping shoulders with Jack at Falconers parties. Kent Parson, one of the best damn players in the league, and also a sub, which _still_ threw Guy for a loop. He knew he shouldn't get weird ideas about a guy because of his dynamic, but Parse was probably the least subby sub Guy had ever met in his life. Which worked, he supposed, since Jack was also the least dommy Dom he'd ever met.

Maybe they switched, not that it was any of Guy's business to speculate on their sex life. Guy's dynamic radar was probably broken, anyway, it was so long since he’d scened with someone. Watching Parson with Jack, how he pressed into Jack's side until Jack raised a hand and squeezed the back of his neck, the interplay of body language between Dom and sub, made Guy miss it a little more than he usually did.

It wasn't like he didn't think subs should play hockey. Hell, Blanco was a sub, and he was one of the scariest D-men on the team next to Tater. Guys on other teams looked between the size of his shoulders to the regulation collar sticking up just over the line of his pads and lost their damn minds trying to figure him out before he smashed them into the boards.

Maybe that was it. For all that Parson had been coming around ever since Jack got signed, as often as he got the chance during the season, his throat was still bare. Parson was unbonded, even if he was seeing Jack, and it made Guy feel weird to think of him taking checks and getting physical without the weight of a collar around his neck to show everyone where the line was. Except Parson didn't have to worry about people treating him like meat on the ice if nobody knows he _was_ a sub. Probably why he kept it secret. The Falconers all knew not to say shit.

"A toast to Snowy!" came a full-throated shout over the party. It was Blanco, standing on one of the coffee tables, cup raised. "For being the best fucking goalie in the league, fuck what the trophies say! And for raising hell about your room and getting upgraded!"

The guys cheered, except Snowy, who flipped Blanco off.

"Get the fuck off the table, man, upgraded doesn't mean I don't still have to pay for damages," he said.

Blanco returned the gesture. "I'm not going to break the fucking table."

"Blanco, _down_ ," Guy said, putting the force of his Dom voice into it. They all did it, and maybe it was a little disrespectful, but it wasn't like Blanco ever gave a fuck. He just tilted his chin up, lifting a hand almost unconsciously to tug at his collar like he was reminding himself it was there, and didn't budge.

"Fuck off, Guy," he said, with a shit-eating grin.

That would have been the end of it, if Guy hadn't seen Parson's knees give out, his butt hitting the couch. It didn't look like anyone else had seen, not even Jack; he was across the room talking to Tater. It looked like Parson had been on his way to get more beer when Guy's command caught him full on. He blinked vaguely, his gaze unfocused like he could actually slide into subspace right then and there. He looked like a sub who was being deprived, not one who was spending regular time on his knees. And, well, it really wasn't Guy's business what Jack and Parson were doing behind closed doors, but he'd been the one to set him off, it was only fair he helped fix it a little.

He heaved himself up from his armchair with a sigh and shouldered his way across the room to Jack, slinging his arm around Jack's shoulders, sure he didn't want anyone else to overhear.

"You need to check on your sub," he said, tipping his head over to the couch. "I accidentally got him while I was bitching at Blanco."

Jack did a double take, hustling over to the couch with Guy trailing in his wake. It wasn't his place to butt in, really, but sometimes subs got weird about whoever sent them down.

"Kenny?"

"Zimms," Parson said. His voice had a faraway quality to it, like he was half-asleep. "I'm okay."

"Guy says he accidentally knocked you over."

Guy didn't miss the way Parson's shoulders hunched up to his ears, and hastened to reassure him before he went into a guilt spiral. "Hey, don't feel bad. I wasn't holding back on Blanco."

"You weren't talking to me, though," Parson said. He still sounded far away, but Guy could see him digging his fingers into his thighs like he was trying to bring himself back up. Which was… not the kind of behavior he expected from someone who actually had a Dom to turn to. Parson seemed to realize it, his mouth twisting, eyes on the floor. "Can I kneel?"

Jack looked taken aback. "You never want to do that in public."

Parson huffed out a sigh that sounded resigned. "Yeah, no, you're right. It's fine."

Parson was not fine, he was dropping, but Jack looked almost ready to buy him at his word. Cursing his own protective streak, as well as Doms who didn't know how to read their own sub's signals, Guy nudged Jack in the side.

"You should take him back to your room. He's going to drop."

Parson looked up at Guy, a peek through his eyelashes that was like a silent accusation of betrayal.

"You think?" Jack asked, hesitating.

Guy wanted to smack him. How long had he been letting this go on? 

"Yeah, I think," he said. "You want a hand in case he goes boneless?"

"I won't," Parson protested, but it was weak, and Jack was already nodding.

"Come on, Kenny, stand up," he said. He took Parson's hands and pulled him to his feet, and yeah, Parson was going down hard from the way he swayed and planted his forehead right against Jack's collarbone, crowding up against Jack's chest and grabbing for Jack's shirt. Jack's hands hovered over Parson's back and Guy almost rolled his eyes. Parson needed reassurance right now, and since Jack looked like he was clueless, Guy reached out to put a hand on Parson's back, rubbing in a brisk circle.

"Walk or be carried?" he asked, as Parson's fingers started to loosen their death grip on Jack's shirt.

"Walk," Parson answered, and did manage to put one foot in front of the other when they left, making their way through the party to slip out the door.

Thankfully, the rest of their rooms were only a couple floors down, so it was a brief elevator ride. Parson leaned against Jack the whole way, his eyes closed. He looked like he was fighting not to either go down or drop entirely. Guy didn't know how Jack could stand to see him like this, but all Jack did was pet Parson's hair a little, like that was all it was going to take to settle him.

Maybe it worked for them sometimes, but this was obviously a special case. Parson kept cracking his eyes open to shoot Guy little looks, and Guy recognized guilt when he saw it. Parson knew he shouldn't have gone down for anyone but _his_ Dom, and he felt like someone needed to call him on it. But nobody was, so he didn't know what he was supposed to do. Guy could see it from a mile away. Why couldn't Jack?

"Look," Guy said, because he honestly couldn't keep himself from doing it, not when Parson kept looking at him like that. "If he went down for me when I wasn't even talking to him, he's missing something big. He hasn't said anything to you about being off?"

Parson turned his face away from Guy, which was answer enough even before Jack shook his head.

"We scene," he said, as the elevator doors slide open. They walked out, Parson stumbling a little and still clinging to Jack. "As often as we can, anyway, during the season. Sometimes I'll have him kneel for me over Skype if we can't get anything else."

And, yeah, Guy knew it was rough on everyone when there was so much separation, but the rest of the guys who were bonded never talked about their subs being unstable like this. Over the years, a lot of them have come to family skates, and if it weren't for the collar, nobody would ever be able to tell. Parson was usually like that, too, only sans collar. This was different and unsettling.

"You want me to give you a hand? Maybe try and figure out what he needs, give you some ideas?" Maybe he shouldn't have offered, because Jack should have learned all of this from his father, and Guy didn't want to step into Bad Bob's territory even when his son was grown. But they looked like they needed it, and Guy could admit to himself at least that he had a protective streak.

Jack looked at him for a minute, his face unreadable, considering. Parson's hands twisted in his shirt, and he glanced down at the top of Parson's head.

"I think that might be a good idea," he said slowly. "I think we might need the help."

Guy bit back a very dry response to that assessment and followed them into Jack’s room. Jack steered Parson over to the bed and sat him down, but it was Guy who filled up one of the glasses on the nightstand with water and pressed it into his hand. He couldn't resist touching Parson, cupping his cheek. Parson leaned into his hand, sagging on the bed, the glass tipping dangerously. Guy caught it before he could pour water all over himself.

"Drink that. I'm going to go talk to Jack."

Parson’s eyes flew open and he looked up at Guy, a little sound in his throat like a whine. Now that he didn't have to keep himself functional to walk through the hallway, he was going down _hard_.

"We're not going anywhere, we're right here, you can watch us. Just drink that and then lay down for me, okay?"

Parson did what he was told, which all in all was a pretty encouraging sign. After watching him slide halfway down over nothing more than some Dom-ish chirping, Guy was a little concerned he would cling.

He looked over at Jack, who was sitting on the edge of the bed like there was a spring under his ass, like he was about to pop up in a split second. His knee was jiggling, bouncing the mattress a little. His hands were laced between his knees, the knuckles white as he squeezed his fingers together.

"You look like you're the one about to vibrate out of your skin," Guy said, giving him a friendly smile to show that he's just taking the piss.

"I didn't know," Jack said shortly, and for a moment Guy thought he was talking about Parson and the state he was in, but he added, "I thought I was a switch."

Guy very politely didn't laugh, because as weird of a Dom as Jack was, he still couldn't picture Jack on his knees for anyone or anything.

"Okay," he said instead. "But haven't you been together since you were nineteen or something stupid like that?"

Jack ducked his head with a tiny little smile, the same one he got whenever he talked about Parson, the one that said he thought he was the luckiest guy on the planet and still hadn't figured out how he'd managed to land his sub at all. Maybe this was why Parson's neck was still bare, because Jack couldn't get it through his head that Parson worshiped him just as much as the other way around.

"We spent a lot of time apart," he said finally. "I was kind of an idiot. So this is— this is kind of new. And the last time, I didn't know what the hell my dynamic was. And Kent likes to push, so sometimes I let him."

"Well, don't do that," Guy said. "He's pushing because he wants you to push back. You should have trained that out of him already, it's bad manners. If he wants something he should ask you for it."

Guy looked over at the other bed. The empty water glass sat on the nightstand, and Parson was curled on his side, watching them through half-lidded eyes. He still looked more than halfway out of it. God save him from stupid kids who didn't know what they were doing with their dynamic.

"I can show you what to do," he offered. He couldn't walk away from Parson in this kind of state. He didn't know how long Parson had been holding it together while Jack fumbled around and didn't give him what he needed.

Jack looked torn, like he didn't know whether he wanted to accept or punch Guy in the face for offering. So, okay, his instincts were all in the right place, they just needed to get honed. Guy could work with this.

"I'll just show you how to handle him. I'm not interested in trying to steal him from you. Promise. He's not my type." Guy usually went for subs that were significantly less muscled than Parson.

"Okay," Jack said, through a clenched jaw. "I should—I should know what he needs."

_Yeah you fucking should_ , Guy thought, but didn't say. Instead, he got up from the bed, took off his shoes and socks, and tucked them in the corner. Then he took off his belt and laid it aside, watching a tremor go through Parson when he did. He'd remember that for later, maybe. Then he walked over to the second bed.

"Jack said I can play with you," he said, without any other preamble. "You good with that?"

Parson looked up at him with dazed eyes the color of sea glass, his lips parted, and nodded like he couldn't conceive of doing anything else. Christ, he needed it bad.

"I'm going to put you on your knees," Guy said. "You're going to tell me what you need that Jack isn't giving you. With words. Then I'm going to spank you, for not doing that before now, because just because you're a sub doesn't mean you get to skate on the wants-and-needs conversation."

Parson dropped his eyes, a flush coloring his cheeks, teeth digging into his lip. His shoulders were tight. Guy knew that look; that was the look of a sub who _knew_ they'd fucked up.

"Yeah, and you know it. Jack isn't a mind-reader, Parson." Those impossibly-colored eyes flickered up to him when he said it, the barest hint of a crease between Parson's eyebrows, and Guy looked back at Jack. "What do I call him?"

"Kent," Jack answered, which wasn't what Guy had heard Jack calling him, and that was another good sign. Possessiveness was good.

They were going to be okay, they just needed a little push.

"Get on your knees, Kent," Guy said, using his voice. Kent rolled out of the bed and his knees hit the floor with a thump that made him wince. Guy reached out and fisted a hand in his hair, pulling his head back. "You are a professional athlete and you know that's not how you kneel. Stand up and try again."

That brought some personality back into Kent's face, a jut to his lip that looked a little sulky, but he used the bed to pick himself back up, gave it a beat, and slowly knelt down again, controlling his descent so he didn't bruise his kneecaps.

"That's good, Kent. That's so much better than it was the first time," Guy said, and had to bite his tongue to keep from saying anything else, because Kent shuddered as soon as the words left his mouth, turning his face into Guy's hand and pressing a kiss like a prayer against the inside of his wrist.

Jack swore quietly from behind them, but Kent wasn't looking at Jack anymore. His entire, undivided focus was on the Dom in front of him. Hell, if Jack wasn't his teammate and he didn't know their history, Guy _might_ try to steal Kent, his type or no.

Guy sat down on the bed, tugging Kent by the hair until he shuffled around on his knees. He pulled Kent's head down to the inside of his thigh, pushing his fingers through Kent's blond hair, scratching his nails over his scalp, the fine hairs on the back of his neck, the smooth skin of his shoulders just underneath the collar of this t-shirt.

"Look at how he's still tense around here," Guy said, brushing his thumb over the muscles in the back of Kent's neck and shoulders. "You can figure out the way you like best, but for me, I like it when my sub is relaxed before I start the hard parts of the scene."

And he didn't have any illusions; getting Kent to talk would be the hard part. If he'd spent this long not verbalizing what he wanted, it was because he had some kind of mental block about it. It happened sometimes, with subs who'd spent too long going without. Whatever it was exactly that Kent was missing was going to be tied up in guilt for not getting enough from what Jack was already doing, guilt at not saying what he wanted in the first place, and maybe shame for wanting it at all. Who knew, when a sub got turned around in their head.

"He usually goes down pretty fast when he's on his knees," Jack said. He was still perched on the foot of the mattress, his eyes fixed on Kent.

"He's slipping, sure. There's a difference between this and true subspace. Look at him." Guy pulled Kent's head up by the hair, watching as his eyes slid open lazily and immediately sought his face. "He's trying to anticipate what I want instead of taking what he gets. That's why he's pushing, kid—he's trying to get you to tell him what _you_ want."

Kent's eyes dropped to the floor. If he was really in subspace, he wouldn't have the presence of mind to be ashamed. Now, his posture folded in on itself, his shoulders curved.

"You're doing fine," Guy said, giving him a little pat on the cheek before he pulled Kent's head back down onto his knee. "He's been going down, but not all the way. You can't tell the difference?"

Jack was silent for a long moment, his mouth twisted. Guy didn't know what was going on in his head, but he didn't think it was good.

"Kent's the only sub I've ever played with," Jack said. "There was a guy in college, but he was a Dom, just... not the traditional kind. Everyone else was a switch."

It explained a lot. Playing with another Dom was something Guy had never tried, but he'd heard from homodynamic people about how intoxicating it was to push and get a push back, to have to fight for control. Switches would submit, they liked the way it felt, but they wouldn't reach subspace. It made sense that Jack wouldn't now how to recognize it.

"Alright," Guy said. He rubbed his thumb into the tense muscles of Kent's neck, trying to smooth the knots in his muscles out. He looked down at Kent on his knees, trying to figure out where to start.

Might as well start with the basics.

"On your feet," he said, pulling Kent up off his knee. "Get your clothes off and get back on your knees."

Jack twitched, but he didn't make any move to stop Kent as he obeyed, slowly pulling off his t-shirt, unlacing and taking off his sneakers instead of just kicking them off. He laid his clothes on the other bed, lined his sneakers up underneath them, and came back to kneel between Guy's legs. His palms rested on his thighs, his eyes on the floor. It was a good position. Guy nudged his knees wider, watching as the muscles in his thighs and his stomach had to tense to keep him from tipping.

"Cuffs, or rope?" he asked.

"Cuffs," Jack said. "Doesn't take as long as rope, easier to get him out of quickly. I'll get them."

The cuffs were black and red, with white stitching. Aces colors. Guy took them from Jack and looked down at Kent.

Kent lifted his wrists and offered them above his head without even having to be asked. Guy buckled the cuffs on. They didn't seem like they'd been used much, the leather still stiff.

"Hands behind your back," he said, and reached down to clip the cuffs to each other. 

Now, Kent had to work even harder to stay kneeling, since he couldn't balance with his hands on his knees. Guy gripped the back of his hair and tipped him backward, holding him at a precarious angle, his weight resting on his heels. Kent pulled against the cuffs, his fingers splaying like he was trying to catch himself from falling.

"I've got you," Guy said. "Settle down, I'm not going to let you fall."

Kent's back was bowed at an angle, his knees spread wide, his head tipped back in Guy's grip. His body wanted him to struggle, because he was off-balance and it felt like he was going to fall, but Guy just held him in place, watching his muscles tremor and relax until his breathing slowed back down and his eyes came back to rest on Guy's face. They were glassy, now, like he was right on the edge of really tipping over. Guy knew exactly what would get him there.

"That's great," he said, still not letting Kent out of the pose, holding him with the weight of his gaze and his fingers tangled in Kent's hair. "You're doing great, just relax and let me take care of you. You're doing good, Kent, let it go."

The breath that escaped him was like a rush of a dam breaking. His eyes slid shut. The tension, the unconscious fight against gravity and his instinct that he would fall, drained away from him. When Guy slowly sat him upright, then pulled him over even further until his cheek was pillowed on Guy's knee again, he went like the tiniest touch from Guy's hands would push him flat. He sagged against Guy's leg, his eyes still closed, his mouth open a little against the fabric of Guy's jeans.

"And there he goes," Guy said, looking up at Jack.

Jack was watching with an intensity Guy had only ever seen when he was staring down the goal, his blue eyes sharp on Kent's every movement.

"He's—" Jack swallowed, reaching out tentatively. Guy lifted his hand up so Jack's could replace it in Kent's hair. "Wow, Kenny."

The noise Kent made was music to his ears, a contented moan as he pushed his face harder into Guy's leg. Guy watched Jack pet Kent's hair until Kent was truly boneless, his cuffed hands limp behind his back. Kent was obviously not starved for affection, with the way Jack touched him, so physical contact wasn't the problem.

"About ready to get started, Kent?" he asked, not really expecting an answer. He didn't get one. "Yeah, he's down really deep. Help me bring him up a little bit, he needs to be able to talk to me."

"Okay," Jack said, his hand hovering uncertainly above Kent's hair. "How?"

"Tell him he has to," Guy said, wondering how the hell Jack had managed to make it to twenty-five years old and not figure this out.

"Kenny," Jack said, his voice gentle and coaxing. That wasn't going to do it, but Guy let him try at it for a minute. "Kenny, come on, I need you to talk to me. You're being good for Guy right now, remember?"

"You're going to have to be more forceful with him than that. I know you have a Dom voice, I've heard you use it." Guy waited, but Jack still looked hesitant, something pinched around the corners of his eyes. "It's good to use it. I know you only hear us throwing our weight around when we're being little shits to Blanco, but when it's your sub, command is what he's going to respond to. Tell him to get his head back in it."

"Kenny," Jack said, and there it was, forceful and stern. A tremor went through Kent's frame and his eyes slid open. "I need you paying attention."

It was the right way to phrase it, too. Kent's tongue came out to lick his lips, his head still resting on Guy's knee but his eyes more with it than they'd been before.

"I'm paying attention," he murmured.

"You're paying attention now," Jack said, fond and indulgent. Guy was starting to get a picture of how it usually worked between them. The problem, he suspected, was that Jack was a huge softie.

"Look at me, Kent," Guy said, and waited for Kent to look up. "I'm going to start really simple. Right now, you're at five swats, and you know what you got those for. Every time you make me repeat my question, you get another. Understand?"

"Yes," Kent said. Guy didn't press; if Kent didn't want to call him 'sir' that was fine, it wasn't like he was the guy's regular Dom.

"Tell me what you do with Jack now."

"He puts me on my knees," Kent said immediately. "He touches me. Tells me I'm good. I get to kneel as long as I want. Can't come until I'm told."

"Okay. Why isn't that working for you?"

"It's fine," Kent said, that little crease reappearing between his eyebrows. He was frowning, reluctant to criticize his Dom and maybe annoyed by being ordered to.

"Kent," Guy said, putting a little more force into his voice. "You just earned another swat. Why isn't it working for you?"

Kent's face was falling back into the same sulky pout he'd given when Guy told him to kneel properly. Guy waited him out, because this was probably the exact kind of brattiness that Jack was letting him get away with, and it wasn't going to work on Guy. Kent huffed a little, mumbling something under his breath.

"Kenny," Jack said, maybe more comfortable calling him out on it when Guy was there encouraging him. "That's not answering the question."

"He's right, and you're up to seven now. Don't make me repeat myself again."

"I didn't do anything," Kent said sullenly, and for a moment Guy thought he was being a brat again, until he clarified, "I didn't do anything to earn it."

"You didn't do anything to earn what? Being told you're good?" Guy had expected as much, and Kent's reluctant nod confirmed it. "You don't want the praise if it doesn't feel like it came as a reward for something."

"But he does deserve it," Jack protested. "I'm lucky to have him, and I want him to know it."

"Sure, but I can see where he's coming from. Think of it this way. If all you did was show up to practice and put in your regular amount of effort, and Marty told you that you'd done really great that day, what would you think?"

Jack's frown deepened. "I'd think he was trying to make me feel better and wonder what I screwed up."

"So you get it," Guy said. "It's the same thing for Kent. If you don't give him something to do, the praise doesn't mean anything. It's just there."

Kent's eyes were closed again when Guy turned his attention back to where he was kneeling on the floor, but he opened them when Guy cupped his chin, tilting his head back.

"What's hard for you to take, that would make you feel like you earned it? Top three." He didn't know if Kent had more than three things he could struggle to do well for Jack, but a limit would keep him from going off on a tangent.

Kent didn't answer for long enough that Guy thought he'd have to ask the question again, but in the end he took a breath and said, "Sensory deprivation."

Guy immediately moved his hand from Kent's chin until it was covering his eyes. "Why is this hard for you?"

Kent shifted his weight from one knee to the other. Guy could see tension in his shoulders again, a tremor like he wanted very much to lean away from Guy's hand but didn't because he wasn't supposed to.

"Don't like not being able to see," Kent said reluctantly. "Means I can't watch."

"Can't watch what, Jack's face?" Guy glanced over at Jack when Kent nodded. "He's doing that because he doesn't believe it when you say he's doing good, because he didn't earn it. So he's watching your face to make sure you feel it."

Kent made a noise, like he wanted to argue with the way Guy was talking about him, but the blush high on his cheeks told Guy he was right on the money.

"Shouldn't I not be doing things he doesn't like?" Jack asked. His hands were hovering, like he half wanted to grab Kent away from Guy and coddle him. Guy tried not to sound as exasperated as he felt; he was supposed to be helping.

"He's not giving you limits, he's giving you things that are a struggle for him. He wants to be made to struggle to do what you want. He doesn't want you to take it easy on him. There's a difference. Here—Kent, give me a hard limit."

"Humiliation," Kent said immediately. "Don't want to be called names."

"There, see? It's easy for him to tell you what kind of thing he definitely doesn't want. These are the things that are a challenge, that he can overcome because you want him to. Give me two more," Guy said, directing the last at Kent.

After another reluctant pause, he said, "Edging."

"Oh yeah? You want to have to try really hard not to come?"

"Not supposed to come without permission," Kent said. "I love the way Jack's hands feel on me, that makes it harder."

"I bet Jack would like doing that to you. Right?"

Jack was blushing. "Yeah, Kenny. We can do that."

Kent smiled, and he probably would have ducked his head to hide it if Guy didn't still have his hand over Kent's eyes, keeping his head tipped back.

"You only have to give me one more. Something that's hard for you to take, that'll let you really earn your reward."

He was watching Kent's face, so he knew exactly when Kent had thought of something, because his mouth tightened like he was afraid it was going to slip out when he didn't want to let it. Something he thought he was supposed to like, probably, something that "most subs" liked. Guy had a list of dumb teen magazines he'd like to shoot into space, he was willing to bet he could lay the blame for this one on them.

"Three seconds," Guy said, and let the time tick down in his head, watching Kent suck his bottom lip into his mouth and bite down stubbornly. "You're up to eight. If you make me wait another three seconds, it's ten."

Kent did make him wait, and didn't flinch when Guy informed him he'd earned ten swats. It was a lot, for someone who probably hadn't had a punishment spanking in some time, but Kent was bound and determined to be stubborn.

"Answer the question, Kenny," Jack finally said, breaking out the Dom voice again.

"Pain," Kent finally said, and yeah, it made sense that he was reluctant to say he struggled with it. Pain play was one of the quickest and easiest ways to drop someone into subspace.

"That was good," Guy said. He took his hand away from Kent's eyes, watching him blink hazily. Damn, but he looked good like this, with that sleepy, pliant look on his face and his lips parted. "You answered all my questions, even if it took you a little while to do it. I know it was hard, but you did exactly what I wanted."

Kent's breath wheezed out of him in a noise like he'd been punched, his eyes falling to the floor, head bowing forward like he wanted to rest against Guy's leg again. Guy reached out to tangle his fingers in Kent's hair and got another one of those attractive full-body shudders, Kent pushing into his hand like a cat asking to be stroked. Guy indulged him, petting his hair and watching him shiver with the contact.

Guy let Kent have a minute, murmuring to him as he cradled Kent's head between his hands. Kent's eyes were closed, his body swaying forward in Guy's grip. He was deep down again, floating off in his head the way some subs got after they'd done well.

"Kent," Guy said finally. He was happy to help the two of them out but Jesus, he was tired. It had been a long day. "Open your eyes. Look at me."

Kent obeyed immediately. He looked up at Guy with a gentle, waiting expression that was so at odds with his earlier brattiness. Guy smiled a little indulgently at him. Kent was a handful, he could tell. Sweet one minute, stubborn the next. Jack was going to have to work hard to keep up.

"You have one more thing you have to do for me, remember?" Guy rubbed his thumb over the line of Kent's jaw, soothing him while his eyes went wide. He made a funny little sound, like he was asking a question without words. "I told you before we even started the questions that you were getting a spanking, and you got stubborn and pushed yourself up to ten strokes. How do you want them, face down over my lap or straddling?"

Kent's throat worked. He was still looking up at Guy with a silent, pleading expression written all over his face.

"You aren't getting out of it, Kent," Guy said, not budging an inch from Kent Parson's puppydog eyes. "You brought this consequence on yourself."

"Straddle." Kent's voice sounded a little thick, like he couldn't force the word out. Guy hadn't thought he would want it face down, where he couldn't see, but he hadn't given Kent the option of kneeling on the bed and bracing himself on the headboard.

Guy patted his thighs, looking over at Jack as Kent rolled shakily up to his feet and settled himself on his knees over Guy's lap. Jack was staring at them again, intense enough to burn through steel. He wasn't telling Guy to stop, though, so Guy hoped he could handle watching Kent get spanked my someone else's hand.

With his hands cuffed behind his back, Kent flexed his abs for balance, trying not to pitch backward. Guy shook his head and grabbed Kent by the back of the neck, pulling him down until his forehead rested in the snug curve of Guy's neck, breath warm through Guy's shirt. Guy kept his left hand there to hold and used the right to stroke down Kent's spine, a few soothing passes.

"No warm-up with this," he said, glancing over at Jack. "It's a punishment, not the kind of pain play you'll want to use when you're working him up to the praise you want to give him. You know how to work a sub up from a cold start."

He paused, waiting for Jack to answer, but Jack was staring fixedly at the back of Kent's head, like if he only looked hard enough he could see Kent's face.

"Yeah," Jack said, belated. "I've done that before."

"Here's how you give it out if you're correcting a behavior," Guy said. He squeezed the back of Kent's neck and got a quick little stutter of breath in return. "Kent, you're getting these because you have a problem communicating what you need. You're going to work on that. This is going to help you remember."

He stopped his slow stroking down Kent's back and waited out the tension that immediately built in Kent's muscles. He was anticipating the blow. Guy waiting for his breathing to slow before bringing his hand down with a crack.

It was clear Jack had never _really_ spanked him hard from the way he reacted, yelping in Guy's ear, trying to shove up against the hand on the back of his neck, a coil of motion tensed in his thighs. The muscles in Guy's forearms flexed as he pinned Kent in place, not giving him the room to squirm.

"I bet Jack likes hearing you," Guy said. He was stroking his hand down Kent's spine again, counting the ridges with the ball of his thumb. "Don't you?"

"Yeah," Jack rasped. He got up from the bed, taking a step back, his eyes on Kent's ass. Guy wondered how pink it was from just that first blow.

"Well, I'm not Jack. You aren't subbing for him right now, you're subbing for me, and I don't like losing my eardrums. So I'm going to need you to try stay quiet for me, Kent. You don't have to be silent, but no more of that in my ear. Do that for me and I'll pass you off to Jack. Maybe you can convince him you need to come."

Kent was shivering against him. He was trying to stay still, doing his absolute best, but his body rocked forward in barely-there hitches, trying to seek something to rub on even when he knew it was against the rules. He was so far gone.

Guy laid down the second blow with even less warning in the first. Kent jerked in his grasp again, his mouth open and panting, but otherwise silent. Guy waited until he'd stopped trembling and breathing quite so fast before he delivered the next.

His fingers were starting to tingle, so he knew Kent's skin must be pinking up nice. Jack was definitely staring like it was, like he was dying to brush Guy's hands off Kent and take over.

Four and five came one after another, blows hard enough to rattle loose a little whimper from Kent's throat. Guy decided to ignore the slip-up. He was halfway through, and Kent’s breaths were already starting to sound shaky on the inhale. Kent had been telling the truth about his feelings on pain. He didn't like it, but he could endure it for his Dom.

Kent broke on the seventh blow, one Guy landed right at the crease where his ass and his thighs came together. He yanked at the cuffs and bucked in Guy's lap. A frustrated sound, like the one Guy had heard players make before they hurled their helmets across the locker room, escaped him.

"Is that right? You don't like this? You're not meant to." Guy have him number eight while he was struggling against the cuffs. "You need to talk to your Dom, Kent. You crashed at _my_ voice. That's the wrong one to listen for, and you know it."

Guy felt the first smear of wetness across his shoulder and waited until Kent took the shaky breath that would probably get himself under control.

Then he let Kent have the ninth stroke, hard, right across the back of his thigh, and Kent's deep breath broke into an ugly, shoulder-shaking sob.

"There," Guy said, gentling his tone a little now that he'd gotten what he needed. "That's it. Let go of that little chip on your shoulder and relax. You've been holding that in for a while, haven't you? Yeah, let that out. Only one more. I'm going to give it to you, are you ready?"

In between miserable sniffles and trying to choke down the sobs wracking him, Kent nodded against his shoulder.

"Last one," Guy said, and brought his hand down.

Kent's sobbing hitched and choked itself off, like he'd suddenly gotten it under control, but Guy could feel it in the wet spreading over his t-shirt. Kent had just stopped fighting it, allowing his body to let out what it was going to let out. Guy wrapped both arms around him and held him as he breathed through it, rocking him just a little.

"Can I have him?" Jack asked. He sat back down on the bed, reaching. Between the two of them, they managed to bundle Kent into Jack's lap instead. Jack couldn't wait even a second before getting his hands all over Kent's ass, squeezing right where Guy had left red marks and making Kent twist in his arms.

"You did so good, Kenny, you were so good for Guy. Took your spanking even though I could tell you didn't like it. You did great." Jack looked at Guy over the top of Kent's head, a little awed when Kent moaned and shifted forward in his lap. He'd been hard since just before the spanking and he was hard again now, dripping precome onto Jack's jeans.

Guy grinned at him. "Now you've got the magic formula. He's all yours."

"I'll let you come if you can do it like this," Jack said, lower and dirtier than Guy had ever heard him. He splayed his fingers out over Kent's ass, guiding him into a grinding motion down against Jack's thigh. "Can you do that for me, Kenny?"

Kent nodded, his eyes glazed and red, tear tracks on his face, already moving his hips.

"Gorgeous," Jack murmured, his eyes on Kent's face. He leaned up and kissed him as he dug his fingers into the meat of Kent's ass, right where it was reddest. Kent jerked, bucking hard against Jack's thigh. Jack wasn't doing much more than mouthing at him; Kent was so lax he couldn't even muster the coordination to kiss back.

For the first time, Guy felt like he was probably intruding a little, but he didn't want to leave until he was sure the rest of the scene had gone well, though he didn't know how Jack could possibly fuck it up now. It was also for entirely selfish reasons, he could admit. The two of them looked fucking incredible together, Kent humping Jack's thigh while Jack whispered encouragement. At one point he slipped into French. Guy didn't know whether he'd forgotten Guy was in the room, but it was clear as soon as Jack started speaking why he wouldn't want Kent to know what he was saying.

"I wish I'd never fucked it up for us, Kenny," he said against Kent's lips. Jack always sounded more comfortable in French, looser, and this time was no exception. Kent couldn't understand a word and moaned anyway, his hands clenched tight into fists behind his back. "Can't believe you still wanted me after everything I did to you, after leaving you like I did, after all those years in between, God, Kenny, I'm so lucky, you're so—"

Kent bit down on his own lip, his eyes screwed shut, face bright red like he was still trying to hold it back, even after he'd been given permission. That kid never wanted anything the easy way, Guy thought, and despite himself it felt fond. It only took a couple more rolls of his hips before his thighs tensed and trembled and he was coming on Jack's shirt, shaking.

"Just like that," Jack said, switching back to English. "So beautiful, Kenny. I love watching your face when you come."

Kent shuddered, his cock giving another weak little spurt like the praise was enough to make him come again. Guy reached down and adjusted himself. He was only human, and watching Kent come apart like that would have given much better men a boner.

"I should leave you kids to it," Guy said, clapping Jack on the back. "I think you'll be just fine. All you needed was a little push."

Kent murmured something in Jack's ear, and Jack cleared his throat, his cheeks turning an interesting shade of pink. "You sure?"

"Mmhmm," Kent said sleepily. His eyes slid open, a look of lazy satisfaction mixed with curious interest and a certain amount of... intent.

"Well, I'm not going to ask him. The point of all this was you learning to ask for what you want."

Guy felt like applause might be a little over the top, but he did allow himself something of a smug smile when Kent made an irritated noise, sat up slowly from where he was leaning on Jack, and carefully climbed off of his lap. He looked even better like this than the had before; his lips bitten red, his face flushed, his hair mussed from Guy grabbing it and Jack running his hands through it, his cock soft and wet with his own come. Guy would have had to be a _saint_ to resist when he took a couple shuffling steps and sank down to his knees in front of Guy again, looking up with a very hopeful expression.

"May I please suck you off?" he asked, with those sinfully red lips parted and those ridiculous eyes wide and beseeching.

"Jesus," Guy said, his fingers locked in the sheet to keep from grabbing Kent and taking him up on what he was offering. "You already did everything I asked you to, kid. You don't have to."

Kent licked his lips, fuck, Guy wasn't going to be able to say no again. It turned out his noble resistance was misplaced.

"I want to," Kent said, shuffling closer on his knees until he was in between Guy's spread thighs. With his hands still cuffed behind his back, all he could do was lean forward and rub his face along the inside of Guy's pant leg, his breath warm on Guy's crotch. "Want to thank you."

"Well who am I to say no to that?" Guy rasped, undoing his fly so fast he thought he would rip his pants open. Kent watched him get his dick free with anticipation all over his face, his tongue rolling out over his bottom lip like he just couldn't wait to taste it. "Think you can take it all?"

"Yeah," Kent said, looking up at him hungrily. He opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out over his bottom lip, and Guy wouldn't have been able to resist that even if he was a saint. He scooted forward, cupped the back of Kent's head, and slid his cock into Kent's waiting mouth.

Kent moaned around him like he'd wanted it for himself, not just as a thank-you to Guy. He kept his eyes open, working his tongue until he could slide the foreskin back and suck at the head. Guy bit the side of his tongue, telling himself firmly that he was not going to come in five seconds like a teenager just getting his dick wet.

"I'm going to give you more," Guy said, his voice thick, and pulled Kent's head down, slowly feeding him more cock until his nose was pressed against Guy's abs and he was swallowing around the length of it. Kent pushed down further until he choked, but he didn't let up even when Guy relaxed the pressure on the back of his head, gagging on Guy's dick like he was starved for it. Guy couldn't hold back from fucking his face anymore while he was doing that, but he kept the roll of his hips slow and deep instead of fast and vicious. Kent's tongue was wicked on the shaft of his cock every time he drew back, and his throat tightened beautifully when Guy thrust back in.

"Fuck, you're amazing at this. So fucking good I'm going to come faster than I'd like. Maybe I should ask Jack to borrow you sometime, just let you suck on my cock all night." Guy thought he could be excused for feeling like he was going to go off so fast, given that he'd had a pretty, willing sub at his feet or in his lap for most of the past hour and had kept it in his pants the whole time. Maybe Marty was onto something about him being single for too long, because this felt like heaven. Or maybe Kent just really was that good.

Guy didn't really care which one it was. Kent was sucking him like all he wanted in the world was to taste Guy when he came and Guy wasn't going to deny him. He deserved a reward after how good he'd been.

"I'm going to come down your throat," he said, his breath huffing out of him with every thrust. "Don't spill any."

Kent moaned when Guy's cock started to pulse, swallowing around him until he started to go soft. Guy kept him there, his mouth warm and wet and fucking perfect, until Kent was suckling gently on his soft dick, barely filling his mouth. He finally pulled Kent's head away when the aftershocks started to hurt, smoothing the hair back away from his face. His eyes were wet again, his lips even redder, and he looked so dazed and self-satisfied that Guy leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. He saw Kent's eyes close, heard the soft sigh that left him, and saw a contented little smile on his lips when he straightened up.

"Kenny," Jack said, his voice thick and raw, and when Guy looked over he was stroking himself, his cock red and urgent. "Come here."

Kent's knees had to be aching by now, and it wasn't good for him to crawl too much, but in his post-orgasmic state, Guy couldn't bring himself to be critical. Especially when Jack fisted one hand in Kent's hair, tilting his head back, and stroked himself furiously with the other. Kent's eyes got wide and almost awed, like he couldn't believe he was getting so many rewards in one night, and then he closed them when Jack started to come on his face, spurting across the bridge of his nose and painting his lips and chin white. Jack's grip in his hair turned gentle when he was done, just petting.

Now it really was time for Guy to leave. He stood up and tucked himself away, watching Jack gather Kent close and undo the clips holding his cuffs together. He didn't think Jack would have any problem with the aftercare part, given how much he obviously worshiped the ground Kent walked on.

"Thanks," Jack said, as Guy was patting his pockets to make sure his room key and phone and wallet were all still in place. "Seriously, thanks. I guess we, eh, probably shouldn't have been trying to muddle through all this on our own."

"Hey, no problem. I'm happy to help out anytime." Guy nodded to Kent, still deep in subspace, his face pressed against Jack's shirt, smearing more come on the already filthy surface, his arms wrapped around Jack's waist, clinging. "I mean it. Anytime. You've really got something special there."

"Yeah," Jack said, smiling softly down at Kent while he smoothed down the spot where his hair stuck up in the back. "I really do."

Guy let himself out of the room, whistling to himself as he walked down the hall, feeling better than he had in months. When he got back home, he thought, he'd sign up for league mentoring. There had to be other kids trying to figure all this out and fucking up, and after such a rewarding experience, he thought maybe he could help some of them out, too. And if it meant Jack or Kent would know it hadn't been a one-time thing for him, and they really could contact him anytime, well, that was just a bonus.


End file.
